


tabula rasa

by theevilcleavage



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 08:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theevilcleavage/pseuds/theevilcleavage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb Stark wins the throne. Sansa begins her life anew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tabula rasa

Robb takes King’s Landing in a mess of blood and fire.

His soldiers tear through the city, swinging their swords and crying out in support of their true king. Sansa hears them from deep inside the castle, her fists clenched in her lap. 

It is a long time before they storm the gates in search of Joffrey. The king will die if they find him, Sansa knows this, but she has hardened over the years and the thought of death no longer sickens her.

She huddles in a corner, blocking out the screams of the women around her and praying for Robb’s victory. She doesn’t move a muscle until the door to their hideout is forced open and Robb’s men burst into the room.

“Where is the queen?”

The other women remain silent, but Sansa owes Cersei Lannister nothing for her cruelty, and she is quick to speak out.

“The throne room. That’s where she’s hiding.”

They retreat quickly, armor clanking as they run, and Sansa lets out a shaky breath. Soon Cersei will be dead, and with her, the Lannisters’ grip on the throne.

“Sansa?”

She looks up, startled. 

One of the men is still standing in the doorway, staring at her through his armor. The women in the room are eying him warily, expecting some sort of attack. After a moment, the man removes his helmet and lets it drop to the floor. 

“Sansa, it’s me.”

He is staring at her like he knows her, tears at the edges of his eyes. And it only takes Sansa a second to see past the dirt and hair on his face.

“Robb?”

Her brother rushes forward, laughing and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I told Mum I’d find you. I knew I would.”

Sansa doesn’t realize that she’s crying, or that her entire body has started to shake with relief. After a moment of clinging to each other, Robb sweeps his arms under her legs and lifts her off the ground.

“We’re all right now,” he says. “We’ve won.”

And he carries her out to announce his victory.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Joffrey Baratheon is executed in front of his people. The decapitation only takes a moment, and then his head is stuck up on a pike as a trophy.

Sansa remembers her own father’s head, how gray and gruesome it looked, and a small, dark part of her rejoices that Joffrey has met the same fate. 

Cersei Lannister poisons herself before Robb’s men can get to her, but they grab her younger son just in time. Tommen and Myrcella are spared, as is Tyrion, and Robb begins his reign on a merciful note.

Sansa is proud of him. She has been around so much cruelty that his capacity for kindness feels like a miracle.

She prays for Robb every day, that he’ll be a successful king, loved by his people. Sansa knows that her mother is dead, and that her younger brothers might be, too. But she still prays for them, and for Arya, who might one day make it home.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The Tyrells have been Robb’s greatest supporters, and as a gesture of goodwill, he agrees to marry the rose of Highgarden.

Sansa remembers Margaery from their walks in the garden. She remembers the girl’s warmth and her bright smile. But she also remembers how the Tyrells discarded her, how they left her to the lions, and that memory is just as prominent.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Margaery has tried to arrange meetings with Robb. Over the past week alone she’s proposed a feast, a party, a walk through the castle grounds. But he turns her down each time, insisting that Sansa is his only priority at the moment. That he must focus on his sister.

It’s a feeble excuse, and Sansa wonders at his real reason for refusing them.

It is during dinner that she brings it up.

“You should meet Margaery before the wedding. It’s better than marrying a stranger.”

Robb is silent for a while, cutting up his meat slowly.

“Robb, why are you so against the marriage? Lady Margaery is very beautiful and-.”

“I was married to a beautiful woman,” he snaps, gripping his wine glass tightly. “She was killed. I don’t wish to be married again.”

Sansa nods in understanding. There is a lot he hasn’t told her about his years planning the siege. But she wasn’t expecting a dead wife.

“Well,” Sansa says carefully. “Then think of it as an arrangement. She gives you sons and daughters, and you make her a queen. You don’t have to love her, Robb.”

“No love. Then what’s the point?” 

Sansa doesn’t have an answer for that.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

When Robb finally gives in, pressured by his many advisors, Sansa sends a dinner invitation to the Tyrells.

Robb has the cook prepare a large feast in honor of the engagement, as though that’s going to excuse his rudeness in ignoring Margaery for the past month. But Sansa supposes it’s a nice gesture.

The Tyrells arrive right on time, lead into the palace by the king himself. 

Margaery is as beautiful as Sansa remembers, if not more so, and her smile is as disarming as ever. She greets Robb first, as is expected, but then she is moving towards Sansa and pulling her into a warm hug. 

“It’s so good to see you. I hope Joffrey did not treat you too cruelly towards the end.”

“Joffrey Baratheon is dead,” Robb says, maybe a little too harshly, and Margaery bows her head in agreement.

“Of course, Your Grace. I was only expressing my worry for Lady Sansa’s well being.”

Robb softens at that. 

“Of course.”

But he still steps protectively in front of his sister, forcing Margaery back a few steps. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

During dinner he barely speaks to Margaery, watching her interact with her family and with Sansa. He doesn’t like her, that much is clear.

“She’s a snake,” Robb says later, once the Tyrells have gone. “We can’t trust her. She’d kill her own brothers for the throne.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Sansa replies, but she supposes Robb is right about one thing.

Margaery has always wanted to be queen. And now she’s got her wish.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The wedding is as grand as expected, and the people, who have grown to adore Margaery, cheer for their new queen.

Afterwards, Robb and Margaery retreat to the king’s quarters, as is expected.

They consummate their marriage only once before Robb falls ill.

But once is enough, and Margaery’s pregnancy is announced to the people a month later. By that time Robb is dead, and with no male heirs to take the throne, the line of succession falls to Sansa. 

It is only during her coronation, after the crown is placed on her head, that Sansa Stark, Queen of Westeros, cries for the last living member of her family.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………… 

Margaery tries to comfort her, though at times it is futile, and they spend many sleepless nights together.

“I miss him.”

“I know you do.”

“Robb knew what he was doing. He was a good ruler. But I don’t know the first thing about being a queen,” Sansa says, burying her face in her hands. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“You can,” Margaery says, and she presses kisses to Sansa’s cheeks. “At least until Robb’s child comes of age. And I’ll be right here to help you.”

Sansa lays her head in Margaery’s lap and sighs.

“I wish my mother were here.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sansa is not a politician, but she plays her part as best she can.

She attends any and all council meetings, appoints Tyrion Lannister as her hand, and pays weekly visits to the people of King’s Landing. 

But it isn’t long before Sansa finds herself needing counsel, and she picks out several men to be her advisors. They do their jobs well, educating her on how best to communicate with the different houses and gain their support.

But Margaery is her best advisor, she thinks.

Margaery, who whispers in her ear and plays the game of thrones better than Sansa ever could. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Robb’s son is born, the entire kingdom rejoices.

And Sansa, with one look at the baby’s face, falls madly in love.

“We’ll name him Robb,” Margaery says, watching Sansa cradle the boy in her arms. “After your brother.”

“No,” Sansa replies, almost too quickly. “He’s not a replacement for my brother. He’s…he should have his own name.”

“And what name will that be?”

Sansa shrugs.

“I don’t know.” 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Margaery is not a mother. She’s never had those instincts, and although she is capable of raising a child, she would rather be running a kingdom.

That’s where Sansa takes the reigns.

She spends day after day with the baby, bringing him to visit Margaery as she recovers from the birth. Sansa sings to him and cuddles him and presses soft kisses to his toes and fingers while Margaery watches with a fond smile.

Sweetling, Sansa calls him, and she says it with a wistfulness that makes Margaery think of warm, sunny days at Highgarden and her parents’ smiling faces. 

“I think you’re spoiling him,” Margaery teases, as Sansa sings the baby a fifth lullaby.

“Well, he’s the last thing I have left of my brother. The only family I have. I’ll give him the moon and the stars.”

“He’ll be king of the world, then,” Margaery says. “And what will we name him?” 

“Gideon,” Sansa decides, rocking the baby gently against her. “It’s one of my favorites. Do you like it?”

Margaery nods.

“It’s a lovely name.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“He has Robb’s nose,” Sansa murmurs, gazing down at her nephew with quiet adoration. There is a soft longing in her voice that pulls at Margaery’s heart. She thinks suddenly of Willas, far away in Highgarden, and of Loras off in the Reach.

“Yes. He does.”

“And your smile, I think. Your eyes, too.”

And now Sansa is looking at her and smiling and Margaery feels a different sort of pull in her chest.

“Ah,” she says, leaning over Sansa’s shoulder. “But he has your hair. The color is the same.”

“Really?” Sansa’s eyes fix on the small orange wisps on Gideon’s head. “Well, I suppose he does.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sansa eventually has to travel to Winterfell.

After Theon Greyjoy’s takeover, the Stark hold on Winterfell has disintegrated, as has Winterfell itself. She leaves Tyrion in charge of the kingdom in her stead.

Margaery carries Gideon downstairs to bid Sansa farewell.

“I’ll miss you,” Sansa says, holding back tears, and Margaery isn’t sure if she’s talking to Gideon or to her.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It is nine months before Sansa returns, and by then Gideon is nearly two.

Sansa picks him up the moment she sees him and hugs him to her chest.

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetling.”

He wriggles out of her arms, eager to toddle around, and Sansa’s attention moves to Margaery.

“Hello,” she breathes, and Margaery rushes forward to embrace her. 

“Welcome home.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Margaery, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” Margaery looks up from her writing and frowns. “What sort of surprise?”

“It’s a gift,” Sansa says excitedly. “And it’s right outside this room, so hurry up!”

Margaery smiles at Sansa’s eagerness and moves to open her door.

On the other side, she finds her two brothers.

“I hope you’re not cross with me,” Sansa blurts out. “It’s only, you’ve seemed sad lately, so I thought I’d bring them here for a visit.”

“Happy to see us?” Loras asks. He is the first to embrace her, followed by Willas, who smells like musty library books and old leather. Margaery inhales and rests her head on his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sansa isn’t expecting any visitors that night, but even so, she isn’t surprised to find Margaery outside her door in the late evening. They often visit each other at odd hours, pondering the mysteries of the universe and talking through their wildest fantasies. It always makes Sansa feel like a girl again, lying on her back and sharing silly secrets. 

Margaery is standing in her dress from earlier today, eyes dark with something that Sansa doesn’t recognize. 

“Is everything all right?”

Sansa barely gets through the end of her question before Margaery is kissing her, her hands gripping the soft material of Sansa’s nightdress. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, pulling away just enough to rest her forehead against Sansa’s. “Thank you for bringing them here.”

“It’s nothing,” Sansa assures her, as she tries to calm the loud, frantic beating in her chest. “You can have anything you like.”

It doesn’t come out the way she means it to (or maybe it does), and now Margaery is looking at her sort of oddly. 

“Anything?” 

“Yes.”

Margaery reaches for Sansa’s hands.

“Then I want to spend the night with you.”

“We do that all the time.”

“No,” Margaery says, smiling softly. “This time would be different.”

“You mean…”

“Yes.”

Sansa swallows, glancing down at their joined hands.

“Why?” 

Margaery smiles at her, cupping Sansa’s face in her hands.

“Why do you think?”

Sansa briefly wonders if she’s being manipulated as Margaery backs her into the room. Maybe Margaery is using their relationship to her advantage in some sick, twisted way. It wouldn’t be surprising.

But then Margaery’s clothes are lying in a pile on the floor and Sansa doesn’t care if it’s real or not.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sansa can feel Margaery staring at her before she wakes up. 

“Don’t do that,” she groans, burying her face in her pillow. “I must look a fright.”

“No,” Margaery whispers, and she presses a lingering kiss to Sansa’s cheek. “Never.”

Margaery has been sharing her bed for a long time now. Sansa likes waking up to her face. 

Margaery leans in to kiss Sansa, but then Gideon begins to cry in his crib and she groans instead.

“You get him. I’m too comfortable to get up.”

Sansa laughs and rises from the bed with a yawn. 

“Fine.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Arya returns to them soon enough.

She is a bit battered and clearly shaken from her travels, but she stands tall next to Brienne of Tarth as she calls out for her sister.

Sansa abandons all sense of composure as she rushes towards her sister, sweeping her up in her arms and crying with relief.

“You’re alive,” she whispers, and for once, when she presses a kiss to Arya’s cheek, her sister doesn’t cringe.

“I know it’s crazy, but I missed you,” Arya admits. “Please don’t use it against me.”

“I won’t,” Sansa breathes. “I promise.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Brienne of Tarth is offered a place in Sansa’s king’s guard. Arya wants to join her.

“When you’re older,” Sansa promises. “But only if you swear not to get killed.”

“What do we say to death?” Arya murmurs.

Sansa frowns, and Arya smiles a bit.

“Not today.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Gideon calls her ‘Mummy’.

Sansa isn’t sure what to do about that, but the second Margaery hears him do it, she rushes to apologize.

“I’m so sorry. It’s not my fault. I know that he’s your son, it’s only that-” 

“Sansa.”

Margaery cups the girl’s face in her hands and smiles.

“He’s as much yours as he is mine. More so, even. I’m not even sure he needs me at all.”

“Of course he needs you!” Sansa exclaims, pulling back a bit. “You’re his mother.”

“No,” Margaery says, and her eyes fall to the floor. “I don’t think I am. Not really.”

“Why do you say that?”

Margaery sighs, running her hands through Sansa’s hair.

“Because,” she murmurs. “Mothers are supposed to love their children more than anything else in the world.”

“But you love Gideon, don’t you?”

“Yes. But I love you so much more.”

Sansa’s mouth falls open.

“Oh.”

“I’m not a mother,” Margaery says, voice growing more and more panicked as she assesses Sansa’s reaction. “It’s not who I am. I’ve tried, but-”

“It’s okay,” Sansa cuts in, because Margaery is clearly unraveling and it’s frightening to watch. “It’s all right.”

“I love you,” Margaery says again, eyes wet with tears. 

“A snake,” Robb had said. “We can’t trust her.”

But Sansa does.

“I love you, too,” she says, and kisses away the tears on Margaery’s cheeks.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sometimes, in the springtime, Margaery will wander into the gardens and pick Sansa a bouquet of flowers.

"For you," she always says, and Sansa takes the flowers with a smile.

She inhales the soft scent of roses, and exhales freedom.


End file.
